


Formality

by axedintheheart



Category: And Then There Were None - Christie
Genre: 'pairing rogers, 'u know what would be fucking fun', (YES I HAVE HEADCANONS FOR ATTWN CHARACTERS IM?? CRYI N G), (the love of my life i like him more than i probably should), Drabble, Hurt/Comfort, Kinda fluff, Lombard is caring, Lombard is latino, M/M, Oneshot, Rogers is black, Rogers is trying his best n also kinda heartbroken, THE TITLE DOESNT MAKE ANY SENSE DONT PAY ATTENTION TO IT, TIMELINE DONT MAKE MUCH SENSE BABES, as somebody who read the book and fell in love with it, but - Freeform, description of a panic attack, i KNOW nobody wants this, i been shipping these assholes since reading the book shaddup, i didnt mean to make him caring i was trying to get him to be nonchalant abt the whole thing but idk, i guess, im jealous that i wasn't the first to write this pairing tbh, im not kidding, keep that in mind, kinda angst, like sooo much, my friends wanted to kill me by the second time Roger's name came out of my mouth, my gay ass immediately said, my headcanons for them are super obscure too, so much ooc, with literally anYONE'
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-24
Updated: 2017-11-24
Packaged: 2019-02-06 05:51:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12811020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/axedintheheart/pseuds/axedintheheart
Summary: In which Rogers wakes up to find that his wife isn't next to him.





	Formality

**Author's Note:**

> For reference, there are a lot of headcanons (excluding the ones that I have for Ethel) that aren't conveyed in this piece. For example:  
> \- neither of them are white. I picture Lombard as being Latino and Rogers being black  
> \- Rogers is short and fat idk  
> \- he also has ocd and social anxiety (he's more so anxious about people viewing him as a "bad housekeep" which is why he continues calling Philip 'sir')  
> \- Lombard is great at reading people but he himself is very difficult to read
> 
> I didn't read this over very carefully.
> 
> also I'm fucking warning you now, Lombard is disgustingly out of character and I couldn't fix it
> 
> and i dont even fucking know how the timeline in this is supposed to work. it definitely doesn't take place after two days?? so like yeah idk have fun being confused

Roused amid a gelid sweat, Rogers had writhed impotently about his cot. He'd blithered faintly, peering into the ebony encompassing of his quarters. Ethel; where was Ethel? His arm scoured the muddled coverings to no avail, weeping softly. Oh dear God, where was Ethel?!

Some garish nightmare about Miss Brady...Or perhaps of some odious voice accusing them of culpability...All that he had known had been that Ethel was not beside him. God, had it been real? Had she truly-?

Throbbing aches had surged amid Thomas's form, a resounding clamor occurring as his voluptuous frame impacted the flooring. Had he fallen? Oh, damn it, so what; if Ethel wasn't beside him what had been the point in preserving himself? Mayhaps it had been faint anguish; perhaps he had mangled a leg or something or other. Whatever. It couldn't have impeded him; not after...after his wife...after...Oh, Ethel…

"Rogers!" The tone had been wonted and accustomed; Thomas had known it quite meticulously. Although, the man had fathomed, dithering, that he could not quite place it. Still atop the ground, the housekeep had peered upward, gaze bedimmed by thermal splotches secreting his umber eyes. He briskly wiped at the tears, coercing them away. Although, of course, his blithering persisted. "Rogers, love, are you alright? Lord, man!"

Oh. Oh, of course. Mister Lombard. 

Philip.

Oh thank God. 

"Come now, let's get you back to bed. Then you'll tell me what happened and I suppose I will sleep with you tonight," the man had advocated, stroking his intimate's unnerved features amid an endeavor to mollify his weeping. Philip had knelt beside him, Thomas recognized, and had begun to embrace his overwrought lover. The two had attempted to stand, albeit a tad doddery, and had managed to clamber atop the Rogers' cot. "Can you speak, Thom?"

He hadn't wanted to.

"Y-Yes...Yes, s-sir," the ample male had winced, grimacing against his rasping tone.

"If I have told you once, I've told you too many times," Philip had chortled temperedly, caressing his intimate's sopping umber features, "I'm not your employer, Rogers. You do not need to call me 'sir' or 'mister' or any sort of it. Do you understand?" 

He'd forgotten.

"Y-Yes...I-I'm so s-sorry, I-I.."

"Hush, love, there's no need for that."

A fleeting, solicitous kiss upon the cheek. Thomas had shuddered against the contact, although had melted amid it upon finally fathoming the concept. "Now, tell me what in the damned Hell happened in here."


End file.
